


A Helping Hand

by WorkInProgress84



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Periods, Pre-Relationship, Self-Indulgent, period pains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorkInProgress84/pseuds/WorkInProgress84
Summary: Nothing can make period pains better. But sometimes, it takes just one person to make them more bearable.
Relationships: Combeferre/Éponine Thénardier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	A Helping Hand

"Eponine? What's wrong?"

Eponine looked up when Combeferre's voice reached her. She tried to sit up in a more dignified way and wiped her face as he approached the couch she'd been slumped on, a cushion and a heating pad clutched to her belly.

"Nothing, don't worry," she assured him with a sniffle, ignoring the concerned look on his handsome face.

The denial was born of survival instinct and nothing more; of course she knew Combeferre would never use any of her weaknesses against her.

"Did you come for the paper Gavroche said he'd leave for you? It's on his desk."

"Eponine…" he said again, crouching in front of her.

Her eyes tentatively met his. Why did he have to be so attractive? Especially on a day she felt so gross and nasty and bloated… A cramp had her body seizing up and she closed her puffy, red eyes against the pain.

He slipped his hand in between hers and the joggers she was clutching in a white-knuckled grip. She held on, so hard she thought she would break his bones.

"Will you tell me what's wrong? Do we need to get you to the emergency room?"

Eponine chuckled humourlessly - regretting it immediately for the way it jostled her lower belly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

"You're crying," he pointed out worriedly.

"Oh, um." She debated giving the real reason he'd found her sobbing on the couch. Then she figured, what the hell. "There's this new TV ad for the phone company; there's a puppy in it and it gets lost."

"Okay?" he said like that wasn't good enough a reason to be bawling one's eyes out. He looked so lost and so earnest.

"Ferre, I'm hormonal as hell and everything hurts," she said very matter-of-factly.

"Oh!" A spark of understanding lit up his eyes. His beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, like pools of decadent milk chocolate. "Do you have anything for the pain?"

"I took everything I could, but nothing off-the-counter is strong enough for this crap. I just have to… endure and let it pass."

He frowned. "I'm sorry…"

"No need. Unless you're the bastard who came up with the whole concept of menstrual cycles."

"I swear it wasn't me," he said with a small grin. God, he was so attractive.

"I'm a mess," she commented, aware of the comfortable, baggy clothes she was wearing and the way her hair hung around her face, unbrushed. She'd completely forgotten Combeferre was supposed to come round.

Combeferre shook his head once, grin still in place. "You're lovely as ever."

"I doubt it, but thank you for lyin-"

Just then another cramp hit her and made her mute. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe as calmly as possible, willing it to pass. She was dimly aware of Combeferre extracting himself from her hold - probably saving his hand. Even though she was disappointed, she kept her eyes closed to concentrate on herself.

"I could- I could spoon you, if you wanted. And rub your back. I've heard it helps," he offered, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck as a light flush coloured his cheeks.

Eponine stared at him. Combeferre was such a good man. A gem. The woman who would be lucky enough to catch his eye would truly be set for a life of moments like this, unexpected and perfect. She hoped she would appreciate every one and tell him every day how incredible he was. She was jealous of that bitch already.

"I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking; I'm offering," he assured her with a squeeze of her hand.

She debated how unwise it would be for her to say yes. Her body would enjoy this, no doubt. Her heart? Probably not so much.

Except she chose that moment to shift on the couch, rekindling the pain anew, and the "okay, yeah" was out of her mouth before she knew it.

Trudging to her room was a painstaking affair; the cramping made it hard to properly stand up and she had to keep her hands on her heating pad so it wouldn't fall. Combeferre didn't comment, didn't laugh, didn't take his offer back.

He followed her as she limped towards her bed, uncaring of what he thought of her bedroom considering how barren it was; everything here had been purchased for its functionality rather than for its cosiness or its design. It was something she'd inherited from her years with her parents: the less stuff you have, the less likely it is to get stolen. 

She crawled beneath her duvet. "You don't have to do this," she reminded him again once she'd settled in, leaving enough space for him.

"I know," he said as he toed off his shoes in the hallway.

Eponine watched him as he approached, unsure in a space he'd never been invited in before. She felt as skittish as he looked. Then she grunted against a flaring cramp; it was like the anguished sound propelled him forward: he got a serious look on his face and marched the few steps to the bed, making quick work of sliding behind her.

He moved around until his front was flush against her back, slotting his legs with hers as best as he could despite the foetal position she was curled in. He drew the duvet over the two of them so they were enveloped in a perfect pocket of warmth.

She shivered a little when his breath tickled the back of her neck and told herself off in her head: now was not the time to think about how nice it was to have him like this. Combeferre was being a good friend, nothing more.

She already felt so much better with him against her that she was almost surprised when his hand slid between his stomach and her back to start massaging the pain away.

"Tell me what's good?" he said quietly, his rich voice its own soothing balm.

"Hm," she agreed. "A bit more firm, and on each side of the spine. If you apply pressure -ah yes, that's the spot- it helps with the pain." 

"Okay."

Eponine let Combeferre work his magic. It felt so good she could have cried. Coupled with the heating pad she was holding to her mutinous belly, Combeferre's hands were a godsend. He had such broad hands, and he stroked her with sure fingers, never letting up, finding a rhythm that was made her drowsy.

"Thank you for doing this."

"I hate to see you in pain. I agree with Jehan when he says you deserve the softest things." She huffed, glad he couldn't see the blush form on her cheeks. "You do."

The soft kiss he pressed between her shoulder blades was a surprise and she tensed up. He drew back immediately.

"Sorry."

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently. "No," she said again, less loud. "Don't be. It's, um- it's nice."

"Okay." The smile she heard in his voice brought one to her own face. It only broadened when the pressure came back. "Okay," he repeated against her sweater.

"Combeferre?"

"Hm?"

"My back?"

"Oh! Right, sorry!" he stuttered a little as he resumed the comforting movement in the small of her back.

Eponine hummed her contentment, a small smile still dancing on her lips.

In the end, she let his gentle ministrations lull her to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Where's MY Combeferre is what I want to know. We all deserve a Combeferre.


End file.
